Last Words
by Crona4
Summary: AU where Regina was telling the truth. What were Belle's last words, in writing, to her true love before she ended it all?


Dear Rumplestiltskin,

I don't know if you heard what happened, but if you didn't, I would hate for you to be without any closure. I don't want to be without closure either, and that's why I'm writing this letter to you… I returned to my father at Avonlea, and I wouldn't tell him anything of what happened. He ordered a scryer to uncover my secrets, and once he found out, he was furious. He screamed at me that he didn't lose my mother just to lose me as well, but to something worse this time. I tried to argue with him, but it didn't work. He just wouldn't listen. I told him of the good in you, and he kept mentioning that he knew you. Did you two ever have a run-in? I wouldn't know, he was so elusive about it. And now I may never know. He locked me up in a tower and has since sent in several healers, demanding they discover what is wrong with me. They always say the same thing, though: that I'm just suffering from a broken heart. He never tells them who broke it, because he's afraid to ruin Avonlea's reputation. Even so, they're wrong. I'm not suffering from a broken heart. No, I'm suffering because I'm away from my heart. That's you. I gave you my heart and you gave me yours, and we didn't even know it. It took me until now to notice its absence, and the presence of something else.

My father has said numerous times that you didn't love me, that you're not capable of such a feeling. I disagree. I saw the look in your eyes when you viewed me; I heard that hidden warmth in your voice… I felt that gentleness in your hands when you touched me. It's all over now, and no one will understand me or believe me, so why should I bother? I've given up trying to reason with my father. I don't know if he ever loved anyone. He would never look at my mother with the type of expression that portrays love. Now that I'm older, I realize that he often regarded her with contempt. I knew theirs was an arranged marriage, but I never could understand why they would stop talking once I came in, why they would stay a good distance away from each other, until now. They would always act for me, and I'm tired of everyone acting. My father sent in clerics for the first time about a week or two ago, it's so hard to keep track of time here. They used scourges and holy knifes to shave my skin off. They would flay me relentlessly and douse my wounds with sacred water, only to flay some more. It hurts so much; I'm almost used to the pain by now.

The clerics have returned every two to three days consistently ever since they started. They would give me bandages, but nothing can take away the anguish that I have felt and still feel. I have shed more tears in this tower than I have shed in my entire life. I wish my mother was here. I wish you were here. You would make this all better, and you would help me and fix me. Even if you couldn't heal me, just your presence would ease my pain into nonexistence. No one will believe me though. I overheard my father talking with a man outside the door. The man was talking about his strict asylum, and I think my father was actually considering it… I'm not crazy, though. I'm just in love. Why can't they see that and understand it? Why do they have to be so crazy oblivious so as to believe that I am worthy of such retribution just because I followed my heart? I can't take it anymore, it's just too much. The clerics, the asylum, missing you…it's all just too much. I miss the days when I would sit on my mother's lap and she would read to me. I miss the days when I could just sit and read a book all day. I miss the day that I met you. If only I knew that it would be one of the best days of my life…

I was on the balcony yesterday for some fresh air, and I saw a raven fly by. At that moment, I didn't care about the hurt, I didn't care about the guards, and I didn't care about my father. I was reminded of how you would always say that the ravens flew around your castle because they were dark and you were dark and you two were alike, and how I would always respond that they just had nests built on the top of it. I had smiled for the first time since you kicked me out. The memories wouldn't stop coming after then, the good ones and the bad ones. I have actually discovered that some of them I had previously considered bad were actually quite satisfying and enjoyable now, like when you threw me in the dungeon, and when you yelled at me. Maybe it was just because you were in them, or maybe it was something deeper. I'll never know, and I'm afraid neither will you. I'm attaching this note to the foot of a raven, in hopes that it makes its way back to you. If it doesn't, then this is all no use anyway. It took me this long to persuade the guards to give me a paper and quill. Perhaps they thought that I'd kill one of them with it, even though I'd never harm anyone.

But now, there's an exception. I can't live like this, Rumple. This isn't living. This is surviving. My mother taught me the difference so many years ago, and while I've tried to be faithful and wish that they'd let me go, it's become harder and harder for me to cling on to those last traces of hope. I'm sorry, Rumplestiltskin, but I already have my plan. Tomorrow I'm going to ask for some fresh air. They're going to come out with me, and I'll act normal. However, when they say it's time to go, I'm going to throw myself over the balcony. I just thought that it would be best to get this off my chest and tell someone, even if it takes years for you to receive this note. I have faith that you will receive it, because you are my true love, and true love always prevails. I just can't do this anymore…

I love you. I love you so much, words and letters can't even begin to explain it. I never knew how much I felt for you back in your castle, but losing you has opened my eyes and my heart, and I pray that it has opened yours as well and you won't just cast this note aside. I love you. Goodbye Rumplestiltskin. I'm sorry.

Love,

Belle


End file.
